His Place
by Elven Ink
Summary: **COMPLETE** "You can stay at my place, if you like." It was nice of Crowley to offer, of course — but the demon had rather neglected to consider that his apartment barely had enough in it to sustain one person, let alone two.


**AN: Originally posted to my Tumblr. "And there was only one bed". **

* * *

Really, it's just good manners. When an angel's face falls from happiness to utter desolation upon remembering his bookshop burned down and he was, for the moment, homeless...well, you offer him a place to stay, don't you?

That was how Crowley reasoned it to himself. The _real_ reason was, of course, that Crowley rather enjoyed Aziraphale's company more than he would ever admit, but this was not a _reason_ the demon would verbally admit.

"You can stay at my place," Crowley offered the crestfallen Aziraphale. "If you like," he was quick to add. It wasn't that he wanted a roommate, dear reader. Not at all. Remember that now.

Aziraphale's face all but lit up, a silver lining in the dark cloud of his bookshop's demise now presented to him.

And then, it was snatched away again.

"I don't think my side would like that."

The difference between angels and demons was the innate need to belong. Angels thrived on it — even in a room full of scowling people, so long as they weren't alone, an angel would be content. But demons thrived on being the odd one out, causing enough havoc to be evicted from anywhere at all. Even from Hell itself.

Naturally, Aziraphale hadn't quite come to terms with his other home that had, metaphorically at least, burned down like his bookshop.

"You don't have a side anymore," Crowley reminded him gently. "Neither of us do. We're on our own side." The addition would at the very least prevent the dreadful thought entering the angel's mind: that he was alone.

It wasn't just reassurance. It was the truth. And it was enough to bring a small smile to Aziraphale's lips before he nodded.

"Well...alright then. If you truly don't mind. A-and just until I find a new place of my own, of course."

"Of course."

"Wouldn't want to overstay my welcome."

"Not at all."

The bus passed by in front of them, a poor replacement for Crowley's Bentley of course, but it would at least take the weary pair home.

* * *

Crowley wasn't someone you could call houseproud. His apartment was not unclean or untidy by any means, but only because such situations require items to exist in the space to be messy. There wasn't much house to be proud or not of.

He physically didn't own that much stuff. He had a table. A chair. A bed. And a load of plants shivering in fear, which visibly calmed as Aziraphale spotted them and immediately began fawning over their beauty.

"Don't stroke their egos, angel! That's how _weak_ plants are born..." Crowley growled in warning to the shrubbery.

Aziraphale glanced over his shoulder at the demon.

"But they're so _lovely_! You've done a marvellous job with them, Crowley. I must admit, I can hardly keep a cactus alive...I always forget to water it..."

Crowley couldn't help but smile. After all, heaven-sent praise was heaven-sent praise. Still, he shot a warning, narrowed-eye glare at the plants.

Couldn't have them thinking he was going soft.

"Well, I'm all tuckered out from this 'almost ending the world' malarkey. Really takes it out of you. I'm going to," Crowley jerked a thumb to his bedroom door. "...Hit the hay."

"Yes, I must admit, I could sleep a year away. Where is the guest room, please?"

Crowley froze.

"...Y'what?"

"The guest room. Spare room?"

Crowley's flat didn't even have a kitchen. A spare room was out of the question, and thus, the demon hadn't even considered the idea before offering Aziraphale to stay.

"Oh..._errr_..."

Almost in unison, both the angel and demon's respective faces began to surge red.

"Oh. _Oh_! ...**Oh**," Aziraphale cycled quickly through all three types of 'oh': realisation, shock, and acceptance. "W-well, I can sleep on-on-on the _sofa_!"

"Mmmm, no sofa," Crowley admitted. Aziraphale's face was radiating crimson by now.

"S-s-so where...?"

"Aw, well, er, you're the guest so...you take the bed and I'll sleep," Crowley looked around for a moment. The table didn't look very comfy. Nor did the floor — he'd tried to sleep on it before. And the walls. "In the sock drawer!"

Aziraphale blinked. Crowley leant over to rest his arm against the doorframe, as if he hadn't said what he just said.

"You'll sleep...in the sock drawer?"

"Sure. I don't take up much _ssss_pace," Crowley noted, letting his form twist and change, scales flickering over his skin until a large, black-scaled snake coiled in his place. "_Sssss_ee?"

"No, no, I can't deprive you of _your_ bed, I'll just—find a hotel!" Aziraphale exclaimed, a broad smile in place to hide his anxious babbling.

"You hate hotels_ss_, you always complain about the decor," Snake-Crowley pointed out.

"W-well I can't very well let you sleep in a _sock drawer_!"

"Well, I guess I'll have to sleep in my bed!" Crowley rebuked, returning to his usual form with a sudden lurch.

"Fine!"

"And you'll have to too!"

"Precisely!"

"Share the bed it is then!"

"Naturally! — Wait, what?"

* * *

As it happened, the bed was quite big enough for the two of them. In fact, there was room to spare, given that Crowley was snuggled up so closely to Aziraphale, who was happily embracing the demon tightly.

Strange how Crowley hadn't realised how lonely his apartment was without another to share it with.

Quietly, they both hoped this "temporary" arrangement would be the sort of temporary that saw them through the next few eons, only to become so part of their everyday life that neither of them would bring up the "temporary" aspect again.

"You know, the humans have a _marvellous_ saying," the angel said, toying with Crowley's hair absently.

"Mmm?"

"They say home is where the heart is. I'd never given it much thought till now — I rather thought my heart's rightful place was with Heaven. To serve and to strive for good."

"You _do_ strive for good, angel. S'them upstairs that don't."

"Exactly. Ergo, my heart isn't there, is it? It isn't home."

"Well...that's alright," Crowley spoke around a sigh, not opening his eyes and nestling a little more into Aziraphale's chest. "I know where it is."

"Oh?"

"'Course. I've been homeless longer than you, Aziraphale. Hell never felt right to me, and I never fit in much in Heaven. But the humans have it right, yeah. Home's where your heart is."

"I suppose your Bentley was your home then?"

At this, Crowley raised his head and opened blearily eyes like some affronted cat.

"How _simple_ do you think I am? You know, I was really talking myself into saying something _nice_ and _sincere_ for you there, angel; I don't do that for everyone!"

"Sorry, my dear...you were saying?"

"Right, well..." Crowley lowered his head a little, resting his chin on the angel's chest and half-glowering up at him. It made sense, in a demonic way — it was, after all, Aziraphale's fault for what he was about to say: "This feels like home to me. More than I've ever known. So I suppose...suppose my heart is...well..." Crowley looked away sharply, turning so his cheek rested against Aziraphale instead of his chin. "You. It's with _you_. Makes sense, I guess."

Silence fell between the pair then. A demon laying his heart out quite so openly was a seismic universal event deserving of a moment's silence.

"Oh, _Crowley_..."

"Yeah yeah, awkward I know. I'll put myself in the sock drawer, don't worry about it..."

He couldn't get up out of the bed, however, as Aziraphale's grip tightened over him.

"No! No, no don't, please stay here...I...I must confess I...I agree."

"You agree?"

"Mm-hmm," Aziraphale squeaked, before clearing his throat and trying to speak properly. "That is, that...even when I thought it _was_ my home, heaven didn't feel as...as...as joyous as your company."

"To be fair, that's not really a compliment — Gabriel is a twat, Michael is an utter _wanker_, and don't even get me _**started**_ on San—"

"No, what I mean is that I love you!" Aziraphale snapped in exasperation. Then he paused. His eyes went wide. His free hand clamped over his mouth. And he slowly, _slowly_ lowered his gaze to look at the stunned Crowley in his arms.

Two snake eyes, wide as saucers, stared back up at him from where he was currently snuggled up against the angel.

Aziraphale slowly removed his hand from his mouth, and immediately began babbling in fear:

"I-I mean, well, I mean what I said but _obviously_ it's completely understandable if you don't reciprocate those feelings, after all I know me better than anyone and I understand if you—"

"Aziraphale."

"Because really why _would_ you, I mean _look_ at you, you're tall and handsome and funny and, if you don't mind my saying so, well-built and I'm none of those things really am I, so—"

"Aziraphale."

"You know, m-m-maybe I ought to check into that hotel after all, you don't need me here in your hair and getting in your way and—"

The angel's ramble was succinctly cut off by lips pressing into his own. After a small moment of utter shock on Aziraphale's part, Crowley pulled away from him.

"Better?"

Aziraphale nodded, dumbfounded. Crowley smirked. "Good 'cause I've been cuddling you for the last hour, if you hadn't noticed. I'm a _demon_. I don't _cuddle_ without a damn good reason. I reckon 'I love you too' is a pretty good reason, don't you?"

Aziraphale nodded again, though this time his eyes were a little more focused, and a slack grin was blossoming over his face. Crowley rolled his eyes and settled himself back down to rest against his thunderstruck angel. The smile wouldn't leave his face, but for once, Crowley didn't mind.

"G'night, angel."


End file.
